


Elevation

by jdrush



Category: The Lone Gunmen (TV), The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Humor, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28961010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdrush/pseuds/jdrush
Summary: Missing scene to "Three of a Kind".  Just how DID Frohike get Scully back up to their hotel room?
Relationships: Melvin Frohike/Dana Scully
Kudos: 8





	Elevation

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: The characters, and some sampled dialog, belong to CC, 10 13 Productions, and FOX . . . the idea is mine.
> 
> AUTHOR'S NOTES: I wrote this story many years ago. 15? Maybe 20? Let's just say it was a long time ago. Anyway, I've been going through my folders and uploading some of my old stories to the archive. This one always makes me smile. Special thanks go out to my beta, Kylara.

"That's it!" I announced, disgustedly, as I plucked the cigarette from the young lady's ruby red lips. "All you dandies, back off! This is Special Agent Dana Scully of the F.B.I. If you so much as TOUCH her you could be committing a federal offense!" And with that, I grabbed said special agent by the hand and hauled her away from all her amorous suitors.  
  
As we made our way through the casino, I tried to convince myself I had just acted so rashly because I was watching out for her, trying to protect her from those lounge hounds, but who was I kidding? Anger vied with jealousy within me, knowing that Scully would never look at me with the same hungry gazes she had awarded the guys in the bar.  
  
Jesus, I had never seen Scully act like that before. It was as if she were a totally different person. I mean, she was smoking, for Pete's sake! What the hell was that? And her un-Scully-like behavior was getting even stranger. She kept dragging her heels as we scurried through the floor of the casino, stopping to look at all the pretty lights, and chatting up all the pretty boys in her path, giggling like a teen-aged airhead. All I could do was keep tugging her along as I tried to remember where the stupid elevators were.  
  
Damn, I wish I knew what was up with her. I'd be inclined to say she was drunk as a skunk, except I could smell no alcohol on her breath. Maybe she was coming down with a cold or something, or maybe she was just seriously jet-lagged, like Langly said she was. Or perhaps, she had been drugged – but by who? With what? And why?  
  
The only thing I knew for certain is that my instincts said something was very wrong with the fair Dana, and the sooner I could get her back to the room, the better. Finally, off to the right, I saw the bank of elevators, and towed the still giggly/flirty Scully to them. The first car that arrived was empty, and I promptly pushed her inside.  
  
I had no sooner hit the button for floor the tenth floor when she reached out and grabbed me by the lapels of my leather jacket. "Thank God we're finally alone," she growled, and then . . . she was kissing me. Dana Katherine Scully – special agent of the F.B.I. and the object of my desires for more years than I cared to count – was kissing me. And doing a damn fine job of it, too.  
  
I stood frozen for a moment, not knowing what to do or what to think. Surely this was all tied in with her strange behavior, right? Knowing that, I tried to resist – I really did – but . . . jeez, this was every fantasy I have ever had. Scully was in my arms, she was kissing me, and I knew I could now die a happy man.  
  
But it was wrong to take advantage of her in this weakened state, and my conscience finally made an appearance. With great reluctance, I managed to pull out of her clutches. My reticence did little to deter her, though, as she slipped her arms around my neck instead. With her fingers caressing down my neck, and twining in and around my ponytail, she cooed, "Let's go back to your room, cutie."  
  
Well, that's what I fully intended on doing, if I could just find a way to avoid her Roman hands and Russian fingers. I kept backing away, but she just kept advancing, until she had maneuvered me into a corner. I found myself staring into crystal-blue eyes, clouded with lust. For me. If it hadn't been for the wall holding me up, my wobbly knees would have surely given out on me. With the last of my rational thought, I stammered, "Scully . . . you're . . . you're not yourself."  
  
As her hands skimmed down my hips to cup my butt cheeks, she chuckled, "Well, of COURSE I am, silly. Who else would I be?" Then the time for talk was over as she pulled me close against her intoxicatingly curvy body, and I again tasted her lips – lips softer than the softest rose petals, hotter than molten lava, and sweeter than spun sugar. I could feel myself melting inside, getting drunk on her perfume, wanting nothing more than this moment to last until the end of time. I felt myself getting hard, and cursed my body's betrayal, even as she moaned her approval and darted her tiny tongue between my lips.  
  
It was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on me. This was so wrong. Something wasn't right with Scully, and to accept these lips under these circumstances . . . no, I couldn't do it. With every ounce of strength I had left, I pushed her away from me.  
  
She fixed me with the cutest pout on her fire-engine red lips. "What's the matter, sweetie? Don't you want me?"  
  
I heaved a deep regretful sigh, "More than you'll ever know."  
  
That was all the encouragement she needed. She curled her sexy body around me and in a husky, smoky voice, purred, "Then take me, baby . . . I'm all yours."  
  
I almost took her up on her offer, not caring if my soul would burn in hell forever, but the spell was magically broken by the elevator coming to a stop – a quick look at the read-out indicated it was our floor. Fate kicks Frohike in the nuts again. I quickly detached myself from her enticing limbs and pulled her urgently down the hall towards the room, hoping that once there, we would find some answers.  
  
After we determined what was affecting Scully's behavior, I watched as Susanne shot our friend full of antidote to counteract the effects of the drug she had been injected with; Dana gave an exaggerated grimace and a sulky, "Just a little prick," before she collapsed on the bed, dead away. Susanne insisted that Scully would be okay once she had 'slept it off'. Still, I stayed behind as she, Byers, and Langly went off together to try to figure out a way out of the mess we had once more seemingly found ourselves in. I just didn't think Scully should be left alone, that someone should be there to watch over her and make sure she was all right. (It's a tough job, but . . . well, YOU know.)  
  
Sitting by her side, I watched her sleep, pondering how it was possible for someone to be so beautiful while unconscious. I was sad to see the spunky, spontaneous Scully disappear, but I had done my good deed for the day and had kept her out of danger. That had to count for SOMETHING (even if I hadn't exactly fought for my OWN honor in that elevator).  
  
++++++++  
  
TWO HOURS LATER:  
  
"Owww, my head." Scully opened her big blue eyes, which grew to the size of saucers as she watched me approaching her, a wet face cloth in hand.  
  
"Ahh, she's awake," I declared, as I sat down on the chair I had moved next to the bed, and placed the fresh cloth on her forehead.  
  
She quickly looked around, confusion marring that pretty face. "Frohike, where am I?"  
  
"My room," I told her. "Well, the one I'm sharing with the guys."  
  
She was silent for a moment, letting the words sink in; finally she asked, "What am I doing in your room?"  
  
I smiled, and answered, honestly, "You asked me to bring you here."  
  
One shapely eyebrow shot up as she replied, hesitantly, "I . . . I don't remember that."  
  
"Yeah, I know." I picked up the cloth and flipped it over to the cool side before replacing it. "You feeling better?"  
  
"I feel like my head is going to explode," she groaned.  
  
I nodded in sympathy. "Susanne said you might."  
  
Again with the eyebrow. "Who's Susanne?"  
  
I just shook my head ruefully. "It's a long story. I'll tell you later."  
  
"Ummm . . . Frohike?" she asked, warily. "Where are the guys?" I think she noticed for the first time that she was alone with me, and was probably wondering if that was such a good idea.  
  
"They had an errand to run, but I didn't want to leave you alone," I confessed. "I was worried about you. But now that I know you're okay, I better go join them. You can stay here for as long as you need to." And I got up to go.  
  
"Wait, Frohike?" she called out.  
  
I turned back at the front door. "Yeah?"  
  
She struggled to push herself up on one elbow, her damp hair falling into her eyes. She looked sleepy and mussy and breathtakingly beautiful. "I . . . I can't remember anything of the last couple of hours," she admitted, "but something's telling me I should thank you."  
  
I smiled at her tenderly. "You're welcome, Scully," then added, enigmatically, "And . . . thank YOU." I stayed only long enough to see her mouth drop open in stunned surprise, then left to find the guys.  
  
I just KNOW she's gonna kick my ass this time.  
  
The End  



End file.
